


wildest dreams

by darlingdany



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14395455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdany/pseuds/darlingdany
Summary: The dream creating process doesn't always go as planned.





	wildest dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OrangePatrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangePatrick/gifts).



> holy cow, i love this ship, b y e.  
> this one shot took almost two weeks to write?? but i'm pretty proud of the result!!
> 
> ships: creativisleep (meant to be romantic, could probably be read as platonic). a little bit of CLAMS, mostly shown with patton.  
> warnings: All The Fluff, maybe like... denial of feelings?? idk, let me know!!  
> shout out to jack for the prompt :'D

“Alright, kiddos, Memory Lane’s all set up for you, okay?” 

“Thanks, daddio. What would we do without you?” 

“Suffer!” Roman cried, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “We’d perish!”

Patton giggled, shushing Roman by gathering him into his arms, and squeezing him extra tightly. “Now, now, Ro, you know I’d never leave you all to fend on your own!” His pause was mischievous and Remy expected the quip before it fell from Patton’s lips, “besides, I’m not sure you could manage without me.” 

This time, Roman gasped, sounding positively betrayed. He twirled Patton out of his grasp, holding onto his hand still, and mock glared at the paternal Side. “I don't know about that!”

Virgil chose that moment to brush by them in the hall, “we’d all starve to death and you know it.”

“That’s my boy!!” Patton cheered, blowing a kiss after him. Roman let go of Patton’s hand and crossed his arms, scowling after Virgil. The darker Side shot him a wink before disappearing into his room.

The smile on Remy’s face was starting to hurt and he knew that if he didn’t break this up soon, they’d all be up later than Logan would have liked. “That’s enough cuddling and smooching for now, I think. Besides, you didn’t even invite me.” His pout was perfectly sculpted and a thrill of success rushed through him when Patton and Roman immediately fell for it.

“Remy, no!” Patton exclaimed, looking properly distressed. In the same moment, Roman was sweeping Remy into a dramatic dip. One hand grabbed onto the prince’s shoulder and the other to keep his sunglasses on as he laughed, an unabashed sound that had more than one stomach erupting in butterflies. “I was joking!” 

Roman dropped a kiss onto Remy’s forehead before swinging them both back up. Patton bounced into Roman’s outstretched arm, and for a few sweet minutes, the three just basked in each other’s presence. Eventually, a yawn spilled from Patton’s mouth and Remy patted him on the head. “Bedtime for you,” he said in his best Dad voice and Patton’s drowsy grin slipped into something a bit more proud. Roman didn’t so much see Remy rolling his eyes as he felt it.

Remy tucked Patton in while Roman got everything prepared. It was second nature by now, but Roman was careful regardless. The last thing they wanted was to give Thomas a nightmare by being reckless. It took a bit more than creativity and sleep; sometimes, the best dreams were ones based off of the fondest memories. The first time they’d tried to use the Memory Archives, however, Logan had berated them for an hour. They’d learned their lesson after Virgil evaded sleep for two days, leaving Thomas exhausted and irritable. 

“Your castle awaits, your highness,” Remy’s voice called from behind him, and Roman startled, barely managing to keep hold on his thermos of green tea. Remy draped himself over Roman’s frame, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Ready to go?” 

Roman ignored the heat that no doubt was coloring his face a telling rosy blush. _He_ was supposed to be the romantic one! He could handle this! They sunk out of Roman’s room and appeared in front of the Dream Palace. It was simpler than Roman would have liked (most things were; it was always _go big or go home_ with him), not that he ever said so, but there was no denying that the colors really took it over the top. From reds and oranges, to yellows and pinks, it shimmered as if glowing in an eternal sunset. It wasn’t until Thomas’ head was finally at rest on his pillow, eyes shut, that it all darkened to purples and blues, looking more like a night sky free of any light pollution than anything else. 

To their left, a path wound to Memory Lane; it was hazy and glittering as it trailed off. On their right, the way to the Fantasy Realm; the noises of birds chirping, swords ringing, and beasts grumbling muffled in the distance. “Well,” Remy cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms above his head, “let’s get started.” 

Roman definitely didn’t get distracted by the sliver of skin exposed by Remy’s shirt riding up. 

The Dream Palace was, from the eyes of creativity himself, really incredible. The fact that Remy had made this without any help would never cease to impress Roman. (Little did Roman know that Remy may or may not have made it for him; it’s not like Remy _needed_ an entire castle just to make dreams). From the entryway, a staircase curled up along both sides of the walls, leading onward to the second and third floors. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling and casting light in every color of the rainbow (“it could be gayer,” Roman had joked, the first time he’d seen it). 

Sometimes, they just plopped themselves in the middle of the foyer, conjuring blankets and snacks, and worked from there. Depending on how the day had gone, they might find themselves in the library, sitting by the fireplace, and creating dancing figures out of the flames. Roman was fond of the balconies, watching the shifting sky above them, where they could make figures out of the clouds. There were four bedrooms on the third floor, two to the left, and two to the right, and it was the second on the right that Remy liked best. 

The ceilings were high which gave the room an airy feeling. The carpet was cream colored and soft to touch, the walls paneled in light wood; it seemed far more modern than the rest of the castle. The best part, though, was the bay window and the (far larger than necessary) window seat. The cushions were plush, the curtains lace, and the fairy lights strung above provided just the right amount of illumination without being glaring. It was comfortable and peaceful and allowed them a beautiful view of both the sky and the Fantasy Realm. 

This was where Roman and Remy found themselves tonight, curled up with cross stitch pillows (Roman’s boasted “do encourage me!” and Remy's proclaimed “i don't need this.”), mugs of hot chocolate, and their preferred mediums. Roman was a writer, jotting down notes in the swirling font of his that often slipped into calligraphy when he felt like being extra fancy. Remy doodled with colored pencils, from childish sketches of animals and flowers, to full-blown landscapes and portraits. They worked well together, Remy bringing Roman’s words to life through comics, which they then turned into dreams. 

When it came to the Sides, there was no doubt Roman was the dramatic one; his love for all theatre, and Disney, and exaggerated gestures. It was one of the reasons he got along so well with Remy. They both did the absolute most at every turn, were extroverts in all things, and sought out adventures as often as they could. All of the concerts and clubs and outings downtown led to looped arms, and entwined fingers, and tangled limbs. It was easy to dance without a care for how silly you looked when your partner was just as enthusiastic. 

Somewhere down the line, Roman’s feelings for Remy went a bit beyond friendship. So, yeah, sure, romance was one of the prince’s many specialities, and it should’ve been easy to admit how he felt. That was just the thing, though; it couldn’t just be _any_ confession. It had to be through a song, or during a picnic, or while stargazing, or— 

There was a tickling sensation on his ankle and Roman startled, pulled from his reverie. Remy seemed unapologetic at being caught redhanded; Roman couldn’t help but snicker at how literal the term was. He was streaking swirling designs against Roman’s skin in red marker. Roman schooled his features and willed his tone to stay even as he chastised, “Remy!” 

“ _You’re_ the one getting all distracted, sweetie,” Remy responded, glancing up at Roman, and wow, the lights were hitting Remy’s eyes just right, and Roman needed more of that liquid amber in his life right now, so he pasted on a smirk, and snatched the sunglasses off of Remy’s face. He spluttered, dropping the marker, and reaching for his signature eyewear. “Oh, girl, you do _not_ want to get into this with me!” 

Roman held his hand high up above his head, leaning away from Remy, and ignoring the heat spreading across his cheeks as Remy crowded into his space. “You’re inside, Rem!” He laughed, holding his forearm up and against Remy’s chest to keep him away, “it’s not even daytime out anymore!” That didn’t deter Remy, however, and he abandoned all care for safety, and launched himself at Roman. They toppled off of the window seat and onto the floor, mugs (thankfully empty) and pillows following suit. 

Roman was still laughing, breathlessly now, “hey, we have dreams to make! Stay on track!” He tried not to focus too much on the bags under Remy’s eyes. He hadn’t bothered to cover them with makeup like Virgil did his nor had he tried using creams to to lessen their severity. Roman could recall with perfect clarity the first time he’d seen them; he had threatened to vanquish whatever beast was keeping Remy up so late while resisting the urge to reach closer and smooth the wrinkles out himself. Remy had laughed, a bitter sort of sound, and told Roman it wasn’t quite that simple. 

He supposed, now, that it was even less simple. He kind of understood where Logan was coming from when it came to icky feelings. 

In his reminiscing, Remy had gained the upper hand, and had one hand wrapped around Roman’s wrist, tugging it closer so that he could take his sunglasses back. “You’re awful absentminded tonight, honey,” Remy said with a _tsk_ , “are you letting me get the drop on you on purpose?” There was a challenge in his voice and Roman was never one to turn down a challenge.

In one swift move, he used Remy’s focus on the shades to his advantage. He yanked his arm back towards himself, throwing Remy’s balance off, and rolled them over, so that Roman hovered over Remy, who now stared up at the prince from the floor. Remy didn’t just blush over anything and so Roman assumed the color in his cheeks had to be from exertion; it wasn’t like Remy would blush at their close proximity, because that would mean he might have possibly liked him more than he let on, and well, don’t get ahead of yourself, Roman. 

The thespian gave a cry of victory and leapt up, dashing for the bed. He clambered onto it and thanked past Roman for having the good sense to take his shoes off beforehand. “You’ll have to defeat me to retrieve your treasure!” Roman declared, leaning down and grabbing a pillow. He tossed it to Remy, who had stood and was brushing himself off. The pillow very nearly hit him square in the face but he caught it at the last moment and gave Roman a stare that could’ve shot lasers, “not the face, Roman, you know better.” 

Roman shrugged, retrieving a pillow for himself. “I do know better, sorry,” he apologized sincerely, all too familiar with the concept. Remy approached, carefully, weapon at the ready for the moment Roman made a move. He realized too late just where Roman was going with this and was groaning before Roman spoke, “it’s over, Remy! I have the high ground!” 

“You absolute _dork_ ,” Remy laughed, “you underestimate my power!” It was ridiculous but the way Roman positively lit up at Remy continuing the scene was well worth it. Their battle began when Remy sprung forward, swiping his pillow at Roman’s legs. The royal Side seemed unprepared for such a quick move and while he managed to jump, avoiding the hit, his landing was less than ideal. He crashed down onto the mattress and barely rolled out of the way of Remy’s next attack. 

“Give me my sunglasses back!” Remy shouted after Roman as he got to his feet and bolted out of the room. “Never!” Roman yelled over his shoulder, having perched the shades on top of his head at this point to make sure they wouldn’t break. They chased each other through the castle, into various bedrooms, down hallways, up and down the staircases, and onto balconies, until they found themselves at a stalemate in the library. 

Both pillows were falling apart, a trail of feathers left in their wake. The sunglasses had slipped down onto Roman’s face and he peered over them at Remy, panting, holding his pillow up as a shield. “Tell me, kind sir, have you had enough?” Remy smirked in return, tossing his pillow aside, and full on tackling Roman around the waist. The prince let out a slightly undignified shriek, his defense absolutely useless, as the pair went tumbling to the ground. It didn’t take long for them to start laughing again, whether one was tickling the other, or they remembered all over again what an absurd turn the night had taken. 

If Thomas dreamt that night of Star Wars and lightsaber battles but with pillows, well, he’d certainly had weirder dreams before.


End file.
